


Love Like You

by Editor7



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, Beatles - Freeform, F/M, Love like You, M/M, Post-Beatles, Pre-Beatles, The Quarrymen - Freeform, and as usual this is pretty tonally confused haha, contains some language tho, killing several birds with one stone, lost weekend, really these are just a bunch of one-shots that were too simple to get much mileage out of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Editor7/pseuds/Editor7
Summary: John loves Paul, but John was never sure that Paul loved him. The song is "Love Like You" by Rebecca Sugar.





	Love Like You

**Author's Note:**

> AS USUALLY, I'm super embarrassed to post this and I admit I rushed bits of this, but hey! It's McLennon Day! And the 60th anniversary, no less! I had to post something!  
> I hope you enjoy! I'm gonna go cry in a corner

_If could begin to be_  
_Half of what you think of me_  
_-_

"Would you like half my chocolate bar, Paul?" John offered.

Paul blinked. "Really? You'd be willing to part with it?"

"Well, yeah," John didn't think much of it. "We're partners now, aren't we? If we can share clothes, we can share chocolate."

Paul beamed at him, his cheeks a bit rosy. "A lad like you, giving little ol' me half a chocolate bar! Wow!"

John shrugged, unable to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

The two found a log to sit on and John broke off half the chocolate bar, which Paul accepted gratefully. John couldn't believe how happy Paul looked while he ate.  
Before he left for home, he thanked John for it one last time.

John stayed behind on the log wondering, did Paul really think sharing a bit of chocolate was a big deal?  
He sighed. Paul probably figured he was some generous, giving person.

Yeah, right.

_-_  
_I could do about anything_  
_I could even learn how to love_  
_-_

"...Paul?"

"Nn...what?"

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah, some jackass just woke me up."

"Listen, man. I'm nervous."

"What for?" yawned Paul.

"I know we always wanted to be famous, but...now it could actually happen. I guess I just never planned on getting this far."

"And I never planned on sleeping in a stack sandwiched between Ringo and George," Paul felt George stir in his sleep at the mention of a sandwich. "Life works in mysterious ways, Johnny. Now let me sleep, pleeease."

"Hey! I'm really--"

John heard fake snoring. He reached up past George and tickled Paul under his arm.

"Tsk! Hey!" Paul smacked his hand away. "Knock it off!"

"Then listen!"

"John, everything is gonna be fine," sighed Paul. "We're all gonna be the new Elvises, just like you wanted. I mean, we're great. George might not like the fame part as much, but his heart's always in the music, where it should be. And Ringo's got to be the best drummer we've ever heard! I swear on my mum's grave, it'll work out. That's a solid promise and you know it. In fact, it gives me an idea."

"What, you're gonna put me in a grave so I don't have to go through with this? Eep!" John shied away from Paul's outstretched hand.

"Take it," the younger man instructed.

"...? Okay?" John took his hand. "Now what?"

"Put that on your face. My mum once told me that touching is one of the easiest ways to calm a person. It's why people press their hands to places on their bodies when they get hurt. But anyway, just hold onto that. And let me get some sleep."

Normally, John would've reacted defiantly, but then, he was holding Paul's hand. And he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He somewhat awkwardly put Paul's hand against his cheek, and to his surprise, it worked; all his anxieties seemed to fade away at the touch.

This time, he heard real snoring above him, mingling with the sounds of the moving train.

_-_  
_When I see the way you act_  
_Wondering when I'm coming back_  
_-_

John cracked one eye open. "Ow, my head..."

He rubbed his temples for a bit, then examined his environment. Somehow, he was at Paul's house, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over him.

"Hello!" he called. "Paul! Jane! Anybody home?!"

"Keep it down, will you?!" snapped Paul, striding into the room with a glass of water in his hand. "Jane is asleep!"

"Ah, there you are," John greeted him. "What happened last night? I can't remember a thing! And what's with the water?"

"It's for you, take it," Paul instructed, and John did as he said. "Drinking that will make you feel better."

John took a couple sips. "Ohhh, I got really drunk last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," grumbled Paul, sitting at the end of the couch.

"Hah, I continue to miraculously come home alive every time. So, Paul, you were sober for the most part. Tell me what happened."

The younger man turned away from him. "...do you have any idea how many drinks you had?"

John shook his head. "I don't really--"

"How many times you threw up?"

"Eh?"

"How violent things got?"

"What...?" John looked down at his bandaged hands. "What the hell happened?"

Paul was shaking. "I was afraid you might DIE, John. We all were."

"Well, I didn't die. That's all that matters, right?"

"Oh, quit being such a DUMBASS!" Paul got in close enough for John to see the tear stains on his cheeks. "Never scare me like that again!"

He stormed out of the room, leaving John there staring after him.

He finished the rest of the water and left.

_-_  
_I could do about anything_  
_I could even learn how to love like you..._  
_Love like you..._  
_-_

"Mal! How are we on time?"

"Uh, got about two minutes, Paul!"

"Thank you! Ringo! Are your drums all set up?"

"Yes! Uh, strike that. Everything but the cymbals."

"Get it done! George! Where did you find that sandwich?"

"I found it."

"Hurry and finish it, now! We have a minute and 48 seconds until that curtain goes up!"

"Aye-aye, captain."

"John! ...John?"

Paul spun around looking for John. He spotted him by the very back of the backstage area, chatting it up with an elderly woman.

He approached them with his hands on his hips. "What are you doing?"

"Paul! Have you met this hairdresser lady, Margaret? She tells the best stories!" John said excitedly.

"Not now," Paul tapped his watch. "We have a minute 'til show time!"

"Ah, is that so?" John stood from the table. "Sorry, Maggie, I'll have to see you later!"

The old lady gave a friendly wave and limped away.

"Uh-buh-bup," Paul stopped John in place. He fiddled with the top of his collar. "Your first button is undone."

John smirked. "Yeah, from earlier."

"I remember earlier quite clearly. Now get your damn guitar. And you look very silly with your hair all slicked back like that," Paul produced a comb seemingly out of thin air. "Hurry, fix it. 45 seconds."

John took the comb and ran it through his hair in a nonchalant manner. "You really do enough worrying for the both of us."

_-_  
_I always thought I might be bad_  
_Now I'm sure that it's true_  
_-_

"BOO!"

"Ack!"

"Ah, ha-ha!" John cackled. "You screamed like a girl!"

"You nearly made me swallow my cigarette. Wanker," Paul gave a wry grin.

"Count yourself lucky. My first idea was to push you off the balcony."

Paul laughed weakly and went back to gazing at the city below.

John noticed his demeanor and frowned. "Hey...I was only joking."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well...why don't you come back inside? It's Halloween, baby! George, Ringo and I were going to put on some horror films."

"Maybe later."

"...what's wrong?"

Paul let out a heavy sigh. "It's just...today is the day my mother died, you know."

John's heart sank.

"It was ten years ago today that I lost my mother. It's so crazy to think that..."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"John..."

"Anything at all?"

"No, I don't think so. Sorry."

"Paul," John whispered as he wrapped himself around the bassist. "I can make the pain go away..."

"No, Johnny, I'm sorry."

"Why not?" John asked, surprised. "I think it'd help!"

"I wouldn't be feeling it anyway," Paul explained. "I just need some time. Please, go in and enjoy yourself, don't worry about me. I'll be in later."

"...promise?"

"Yes, promise," chuckled Paul.

John reluctantly let Paul be and returned inside the hotel.  
While he, George and Ringo watched movie after movie, he kept thinking about Paul. He was waiting for him to come inside, but he never did.

John waited and waited and waited in front of the TV.  
He woke up on the sofa the next morning.

He looked at the floor. George was asleep down there, clinging to a leg of his that was hanging over the cushion's edge.

"Mm...oh, Cynthia," he spoke in his sleep.

John rolled his eyes and yanked his leg away.

Then he remembered the events of the previous night.

"Paul."

He instantly got to his feet and passed through the kitchen, where he found Ringo drinking some juice.

"Good morning, John," he greeted after a final gulp.

"Morning, Ringo," John panted. "Have you seen Paul?"

"Uhh, he's still asleep, I believe. If he is, wake him up, will you?"

"Sure, thanks!"

John bolted into the bedroom and was relieved to find Paul sitting up and stretching in bed.

He waved at John. "Good morning!"

"G-Good morning, Paul! Er, how are you?"

"I'm good!" Paul said genuinely. "Slept like a log last night. Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I fell asleep on the couch."

"Ahh," Paul nodded. "Well, it was nice to have the entire bed to myself for once, hehe."

"Yeah..."

Paul stood and went to the bathroom to shave.

John couldn't keep himself from staring. Just last night, Paul was clearly straining himself to smile, but now he looked like he was constantly on the verge of laughter. A real case of day and night. He couldn't help but wonder what had gone on without him after he'd nodded off.

_-_  
_'Cause I think you're so good_  
_And I'm nothing like you_  
_-_

"Dad, can we play now?"

"I'm writing."

Julian pouted and raced over to Paul, who lovingly pet his head.

"Come now, John, when was the last time you and Jules played together?" Paul inquired.

"Uhh, I don't know," John shook his head. "I bought him a new toy just the other day. Julian, play with your pirate ship."

"That's not the same thing!" scolded Paul. "Come on, put those papers down already and play with him!"

John took a deep breath and faced Paul. "Can't you do it? You don't seem especially busy right now. Julian, play with Paul, please."

"He misses you. Right?" Paul turned to the boy. "You miss your daddy, don't you, Jules?"

"He's busy all the time," Julian mumbled shyly.

"...fine, uh..." John picked his son up. "Come on, Julian, let's watch the telly. We can see if that silly Beatles cartoon is on."

"Daaad! That's not playing!" huffed Julian.

Feeling lost, John glanced at Paul.

The younger man sighed. "Looks like Super Paul has to save the day again."

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" Julian reached for Paul. "I wanna play Super Paul!"

"'Super Paul'? Is that a board game?" John asked.

"It's a pretending game," Paul grinned and took the child from John. "We made it up last month while you were away."

"Well, how do you play it?"

"Oh, John, there's too many rules to name. Jules and I will tell you later. Besides, you have writing to do. Come on, Super Julian!"

John watched Paul carry his boy away, shouting about something they would probably never explain. He sat down to write again, but nothing came to him.

"What sort of kid doesn't like to watch TV...?" he grumbled.

_-_  
_Look at you go, I just adore you_  
_I wish that I knew_  
_What makes you think I'm so special..._  
_-_

Paul was a lovely sight to wake up to, and one John was used to. But contary to the norm, he was awake too.

John gasped. "Did you just wake up?"

"Yeah..." Paul replied. "We woke up at the same time, I guess."

John smiled, for he loved moments like this.  
He could feel so much heat emanating from Paul. He supposed that was because he'd hogged the blanket all night. John felt a compulsion to hold Paul and share in that warmth.

"I should tell you..." Paul looked down. "I had a dream about you last night."

"Ha," John winked. "I have dreams about you all the time."

Paul rolled onto his back, hoping to obscure his reddening face from John. "This was a meaningful dream...I know it."

"Well, what happened in it?"

"I remember...in the dream, I was a schoolboy again. I was on this lovely glass rooftop and I could see this entire city from there. It was nighttime, but it wasn't cold," Paul detailed. "There was a big, white piano just like Elvis's on the roof with me."

"I thought this dream was about me."

"Y'know, patience is a virtue. So! I started to play a tune on the piano, and then you showed up; you were just a teen too. You looked at me, then you sat at the piano with me, and you started playing it too. We just sort of harmonized on the spot. And I think that's when I woke up. What do you think that dream was trying to tell me?"

John yawned. "Maybe it was telling you that...it's not as lonely at the top as everyone would have you believe. I mean, look at the four of us. We're..."

"Bigger than Jesus?"

"Jackass!" John laughed, shoving Paul. "Don't let the reporters hear you. We're on top of the world and we're still joined at the hips."

"Mm..." Paul looked over at George and Ringo, sleeping in their own bed. He grinned with fondness. "On top of the world, you say."

"Yeah. So please don't embarrass me."

"ME? Embarrass YOU? Nooo!" Paul pretended to be offended. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing!"

"Shhh! You're so loud! Geo and Rings are still asleep!"

"Oh, I'M loud!"

"SHHH!"

"SHHSHHHH!"

_-_  
_If I could begin to do_  
_Something that does right by you_  
_-_

"I'm very proud of you", he'd said. PROUD.

John had always thought that Paul was such a simple person. Compared to himself, anyway. And not necessarily in a bad way.

But after everything that had happened, for Paul to say that he was proud of John...it was just something he didn't understand. He couldn't understand.

Was he proud of John for splitting up the band? For leaving him? Did he want John gone?

Was he proud of John for actually going through with things he'd been threatening to do? For leaving Cynthia? For marrying Yoko?

Perhaps Paul was just trying to make John feel better.

Or perhaps Paul took John for a fool, and he was more ashamed of a person than he had ever been in his life.

_-_  
_I would do about anything_  
_I would even learn how to love..._  
_-_

John had always loved Paul's voice. It was no doubt one of his favorite sounds in the world.

Nowadays, when he heard Paul sing, he became vulnerable. His heart was revealed for all to see. How could he conceal that loving expression on his face when he heard Paul's voice, especially in harmony with his own?

All it would do was take him back to the way things used to be, the way Paul used to be, the way John used to be.  
But it was deeply sad to think that part of him wanted to abandon his current life and just turn back time, erasing everything that had transpired and just returning to those ways.

So, whenever John heard Paul sing, he was filled with both great relief and great disappointment.

"And that was the Beatles with 'If I Fell', a classic! Ah, can't beat that good ol' Lennon-McCartney magic, can ya?" the radio announcer said wistfully.

John found himself nodding.

_-_  
_When I see the way you look_  
_Shaken by how long it took_  
_-_

"A-CHOO!" John sneezed for the umpteenth time.

He really should've been in bed, for he had an awful cold. He cringed when the phone rang.

"Dammit," he got up to answer it. "People, always callin' me..."

He snatched it up and sniffed. "You're on with John."

"Hi, Johnny."

Oh, Lord, it was Paul. And Yoko would be home any minute. She was sure to give him hell later if she found out he'd been speaking with Paul. George, Ringo, or even Cynthia were fine, but Paul? She'd throw a fit and he knew it.

"...hi, Paul."

"Ooh. Is something the matter? You don't sound quite like yourself."

"Hm, yeah, I've got a bit of a cold, any particular reason you're calling me?"

"..."

"WELL?"

"I just wanted to see if we could meet up sometime soon. I'm pretty overbooked for the rest of the month, but maybe after that we could..."

"Yeah. Yeah, uh, I'll ask Yoko about it and we'll see. Okay? ...CHOO!" John sneezed again. "Guh...gotta go."

"Tch. Okay...and John?"

"What?"

"I hope your cold goes away. Get plenty of bed rest, won't you?"

Paul hung up.

Despite himself, John chuckled. "...yes, sir."

_-_  
_I could do about anything_  
_I could even learn how to love like you!_  
_Love like you..._  
_Love me like you..._  
_-_

"Tea, John?"

"Yes, thank you," John took the cup.

May was so considerate, always thinking about what John wanted and how he felt. She was very different from Yoko in that regard. And she kept John in contact with his old friends and family. John loved May.

She took a seat across the room. "So, how did you feel having Paul and Linda over? Did you have a good time with them?"

"Yes," murmured John. He stopped to think about it.

Paul and Linda behaved so differently from him and Yoko. Every second they were in the same room, there was this palpable love and care between them. With Yoko, it seemed to come and go. Most days, she was his dream woman, his soulmate, the love of his life. But other days, he wondered what he'd ever seen in her.

"Would you like to have them over again?"

John eyed his tea reflectively. The steam fogged up his glasses. He saw a tear drop into the cup.

"John?" May walked over to him. She held his shoulders comfortingly. "Wh-What's the matter?"

"Paul..." John sniffed. "When Paul was here with Linda...he looked happier than I've ever seen him."

"He must've been very happy to see you, John."

Another tear fell into the tea. "He loves her..."

"He loves you too."

"Paul has no reason to love me. I'm starting to think he never did."

"Please don't say that. It'd kill him inside if he knew you were sad because of him."

John sniffled again. "When I saw Paul...I felt like I wanted to be angry with him. It was so easy to do while we were apart. But when I saw him with Linda...on the inside, I felt happy too."

"You did?"

"I did. That's what love does to you, huh?"

"Well, that's a good thing. I know how much you care about Paul. Even when it's hard, you're happy for him."

He held his tea up to May. "Sorry, could you pour me a new cup? I've cried into this one."

"Sure," May took the cup and made her way to the kitchen.

"May?" John called.

She turned. "Mm?"

"We should invite Paul and Linda here again. Let's ring them up soon."

May grinned. "Certainly."

That night, John slept next to May more peaceful and content than he had ever felt.


End file.
